


The Opposite of Love or: The Place Where Loki Can Beg

by AppleGrenade



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-27
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleGrenade/pseuds/AppleGrenade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark was a genius. Here’s Evidence #135642.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some OOC-ness necessary. Advice on grammar and writing technique appreciated.
> 
> Spoilers: The Avengers #17, when Joss & Co. finally run out of ideas and opt to just humor the fans. I wish.
> 
> Disclaimer: I subscribe to the theory of multiple universes; in one of those universes, The Avengers is totally mine. Not in this universe, though. In this universe, I’m just a sad person writing about fictional characters boning to assuage my loneliness.

"Stark..."

There was a shivery moan when Tony grazed his blunt teeth against that alabaster skin, now tinged Audrey Hepburn rose. So he did it again, languidly, deliberately nibbling at the spot right where Loki's earlobe met his neck. Mr. I-Am-So-Dastardly-Even-Satan-Asks-Me-For-Permission-To-Fart squirmed when Tony gave his nape a teasing bite but didn't fight when he was pushed down further into the King-sized mattress by Tony's palm against the small of his back.

Wow. Loki, pliant and yielding. That's a sight, Tony smiled to himself.

There was no way Tony would ever admit that he discovered it by accident. Because, quite frankly, it was genius, and Tony never shied away from boisterously claiming anything that'd make him look like a genius. Pretty much all of the time it's true anyway so, piss off.

In any case, how he discovered it **was** genius. Yes.

Not that it mattered; he couldn't actually publicly brag about this particular triumph. No, not for the reason you think - SHIELD-sanctioned hit, public outcry, irreparable damage to his standing as a noble and upright humanitarian, Pepper suffering from a(nother) coronary… No, those he can face and successfully too. The thing is, Tony Stark may be a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, but not even his most powerful Iron Man suit could protect him from the wrath of one Asgardian God of Awesome Hair. Not for long anyway.

Thor and Tony may be comrades-in-arms, and Loki may be carrying out his unspeakably horrific plans of doom and destruction first thing in the morning - on many days, before breakfast (that bastard) - but Thor never made it a secret that he cared deeply for his wayward baby brother and would unthinkingly fly into the Sun and back if it meant Loki would at least agree to sit down and talk instead of wreaking havoc in the backyards of innocent bystanders.

Tony imagined it would be one awkward counseling session.

But, no. No. If Point Break were to somehow discover the morally-bankrupt acts Tony has been engaging in with Mischief Incarnate, well, there would be hell to pay, Tony's sure of it. The guy turned out to be a little old-fashioned when it came to this sort of thing, believe it or not. Tony would probably be smote to medium rare with a massive lightning bolt courtesy of Mjolnir for tarnishing Loki’s virtue or other like Victorian cliché. Then Thor would join Pepper and have a coronary of his own.

Anyway, one (i.e. you) might wonder as to how it was that two men from opposite ends of destiny should find themselves demonstrating every illustration found in the Kama Sutra (they go page by page, if you must know). Well, it'd probably be best to tell the story from the beginning. Kind of.

So, one Saturday afternoon about oh... three and a half months ago, Tony found himself in a very unlikely position: humping merrily between Loki Laufeyson's widespread legs.

There's a very good explanation for it. Not that he could explain it at the moment, considering that Loki was sporting a ravaged look that fit him so very nicely: slack lips allowing a string of multilingual curses interspersed with breathy whimpers to fill the bedroom, eyes tightly shut and brows knitted together in the most exquisite expression of ecstasy Tony had ever seen. And bear in mind, Tony had seen plenty.

All he could remember was them constantly circling each other whenever the Avengers and the Trickster God go head to head, exchanging reactor-powered punches as much as verbal judo moves. It was, seriously, the hottest courtship Tony had ever experienced.

So normally people wouldn't consider (successfully) blowing up Fox Network's headquarters or (almost successfully) poisoning the Great Lakes a method of seduction (unless you developed your repertoire by watching 1960s Saturday morning cartoons, in which case "hey, different strokes for different folks!"), but there was undeniably a method to Loki's madness that Tony found so... riveting. The things Loki did, no matter how seemingly insignificant, always culminated into something spectacular.

Tony Stark was a fanboy of anything spectacular.

It was not long until he started to look forward to the sounds of blaring klaxon, signaling another sighting of the result of one of Loki's large-scale temper tantrums.

"Stop. Your beard. You're going to give me rashes," Loki breathed through lips bitten sinfully-red.

"Oh you have so much more to worry about than beard-burn right now, sweetness." And it's a testament to how aroused Loki was at that moment that he let the endearment slide. Just then, Tony decided that every inch of Loki's nape needed to be thoroughly mapped; the fact that that wicked tongue still managed to form sentences did not sit well with Tony and his world-notorious prowess in bed. So he attacked, teeth possessively scraping the skin where Loki's neck met his back, tongue swirling seemingly erratic patterns behind his ears, lips passionately soothing the red marks left by his teeth - in a way marking his territory - aiming to discover what he can do to get Loki decisively and conclusively undone.

Oh, did he forget to mention? Loki Laufeyson, patricidal Prince of the Frost Giants, errant adopted son of the mighty Odin, emo-haired Silvertongue and all-around legendary troublemaker had a... well, a delightfully-sensitive neck, to put it mildly. And Tony **was** putting it mildly. Because he - renowned wordsmith that he was - honestly had no words to describe the way Loki mewled obscenely when Tony (accidentally, but with no small measure of genius) breathed against the back of his neck ten minutes ago which led to, well, to **this**.

Yes, yes. Crack a window open and exhale a collective ‘unf!’ Go ahead, Tony didn't mind. He's too busy enjoying the view of Loki jerking involuntarily and yelling something in Old Norse as the former roughly grasped one perfectly-shaped cheek (not that cheek, the other cheek, you know, down there) and simultaneously bit into the skin of the latter's nape just over his spine. Hard.

Twice. Three times. Several more after that until Loki clawed violently at the million thread-count sheets, forever ruining it. Tony didn't care. The most expensive bedding money can buy; he can get a thousand of them and then some. The sight of Loki biting his tightly-clenched knuckles, trying in vain to swallow the irreverent noises his throat can't seem to help expel was truly priceless.

It’s so cute how he’s still trying to resist, Tony thought, yet knowing full well that as always this would be a difficult battle, that any triumph against this trembling body beneath him would be hard-won. So he savoured the sounds of Loki keening when he started nibbling, starting from the juncture where neck meets his left shoulder all the way to the other one. He smirked deviously, latched his teeth upon the side of Loki's neck that hadn't been marred by a bite mark while slipping two fingers knuckle-deep into Loki's hole, pushing against that spot that would drive any man, mortal or otherwise, into a state of ardent lust.

The God of Mischief buried his face into his pillow and lets out a broken sob.

Tony continued to finger-fuck him this side of too rough, and Loki moaned like he was being violated, which he was, in all fairness. After a while he added a third finger, then a fourth, thrusting and scissoring and rubbing against Loki’s slick insides until he had to lift his reddened face from the pillow and gasp for air, seemingly distressed for once. Tony decided then that his fingers has had enough fun, positioned himself atop Loki between his legs, grasped the slim hips, and pressed in.

“Mnh! Stark!”

It was too much, too little, all at once. Tony kept pushing in and pulling out, slowly, so that every drag of his cock branded every inch of Loki’s heated skin. He reached backwards to grab Loki’s thighs and pushed them outwards, spreading him further apart. When Tony grabbed Loki’s hips once more to lift him up and slam into him at an angle he’d come to catalog as ‘likely to cause Loki to make this wonderfully-helpless strangled noise at the back of his throat’ he was pleasantly surprised to find that, not only did it work, it sounded even more delicious when, instead of just noise, Loki choked out a word that sounded suspiciously like “please!”.

Oh, yes. Right now, Tony thought he could fuck forever. Die of it, even.

Damn, but Loki was **tight**. Really, considering the multiple fucking sessions of fucking they just had, and they had been very recent too - Loki’s hole was still wet from lube and cum - yet for him to still be gripping Tony like velvet gloves two sizes too small, well…

Tony smoothed his palms against the skin of Loki’s back, skimmed his fingers from Loki’s sexy, round ass and upwards, pressed against his sides, felt the edges of his heaving ribcage. Further up and under, grabbed at Loki’s chest, massaged them in turns roughly and tenderly. Then, without warning, Tony dragged him up, pulled the sweat-slicked back flush against his chest. Loki’s head lolled to rest against Tony’s shoulder.

Excellent, just what he was aiming for. Tony resumed his conquest of that graceful neck, usually annoyingly hidden underneath a high-collared shirt or overcoat and his gay-ass helmet. In between licks and open-mouthed kisses, Tony absentmindedly formulated a plan to find a way to get to the Trickster’s wardrobe and ridding all his clothes of the cumbersome collars. Then again, it was possible Loki was well-aware of his sensitivity; maybe that’s why he wore those Elizabethan necklines to begin with. Come to think of it, Loki was always so controlling when it came to where Tony could touch him.

“No more,” Tony growled into the pink-tinged shell of one ear. “From now on, you don’t get a say. I’m gonna ruin you and wreck you and pull you apart any way I please and you will love it and you will want more,” he punctuated this threat of a promise by biting into Loki’s jaw, then kissing and licking the spot where his pulse thundered just beneath his skin. One of Loki’s hands grabbed Tony’s shoulder while the other his thigh, his fingers squeezing in want or desperation, Tony was unsure, but it was Loki’s answer and that was good enough for him so he rocked harder and faster into the body in his lap. Lips toying with Loki's obscenely-vulnerable neck; cock buried deep inside him to cajole breathless gasps from that fabled silver tongue.

And Loki pushed back against him, meeting his every thrust, craning his neck away from Tony so as to allow the Avenger more access to that swanlike neck, letting himself be ridden and marked and pleasured. Tony loved it whenever he could make Loki cooperative like this, which was not often at all, to Tony’s chagrin. He was responsive, sure, and while he’s never quiet, Loki was not readily generous with his ‘encouragements’ either. No man liked it when his bedmate didn’t simply melt and cry out at every single one of his touches - that so much work and coaxing and work were required just to make that creamy skin turn a rousing shade of cherry. Tony was no exception.

He never made it easy. Tony found that vexing yet undeniably appealing at the same time. So he continued to pound into Loki in a punishing rhythm, pillaging him of whimpers and moans. The fingers of one hand applied teasing, torturous touches to Loki’s pebbled nipples, pinked like the rest of him. Another hand glided down, over the flat stomach and lower, towards that juicy, peach-coloured shaft nestled between Loki’s pale thighs, leaking wantonly and bobbing in a most hypnotic rhythm. When Tony curled his fingers tightly around it, rubbing the callused pad of his thumb over the glistening head, Loki shouted something that most certainly sounded like “fuck!”

Well, don’t mind if I do, Tony thought gleefully before he finally lost his mind to lust and desire. So he applied a firm grip to Loki’s pulsating member and stroked ferociously in time with his cock that was pumping into Loki mercilessly. Loki who, at last, seemed to let go and just revel in the feel of being taken with such force, of having his fiercely-blushing neck riddled with marks left by Tony’s scraping beard and grazing teeth, of Tony’s hands tracing a fiery path across his flushed skin and touching him everywhere that mattered…

Of his lips howling a litany of “Stark. Yes. Please. Stark!”

It could’ve been minutes or it could’ve been months; eventually, Tony licked a long, luxurious stripe from the base of Loki’s neck upwards and bit down hard on his earlobe, the fingers of one hand pinched lovingly at a rock-hard nipple while the other stroked his stiffened manhood vigorously, his cock plunged deeply, shoving insistently against his prostate.

There were backs arched in tandem, and fingernails scratching impassioned trails across overheated skin, and oaths to multiple deities, and **clenching**. Oh god, the clenching!

It’s very possible that both their screams could be heard all the way in Valaskjálf.

\-----

“Stop that.”

“Hm, don’t wanna,” replied Tony in the most insolent tone he could muster. He was running the tips of his fingers over Loki’s very ruined neck for the umpteenth time, just to see the God of Mischief shudder. The previous times Loki had not said a word, but there was a sharpness to his admonition. Not that Tony was intimidated; the said sharpness, if indeed there was any, was mostly muffled by the pillow upon which Loki seemed to be intent on suffocating himself.

Tony pulled the duvet up over their bodies - no sense in letting Loki freeze to death (the world would be better off; Tony’s libido would mourn for all eternity). He reached forward, intending to pull Loki closer when he squirmed away, albeit not too vehemently.

“Leave me alone.”

Tony stifled his laugh. “Shan’t, Your Crabby-ness”

He settled against Loki’s back. Putting an arm around his midriff - not without some token resistance from Loki, of course - Tony nuzzled the back of his neck once more. Inhaling the thoroughly heady scent of sex and mayhem embedded there, he whispered "Oh, I'm so keeping you."

Loki huffed but made no further move to push him away. Victory! was Tony’s final thought before letting himself be abducted by sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark may or may not be a genius. It depends on who you ask. Tony doesn’t give a damn. **He** got to bone the absolute fuck out of the mischievous God of Mischief. What did **you** do last night that was so great?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sort-of-coda, as promised. Some residual OOC-ness because fandom logic dictates that great sex is bound to cause at least a bit of change in the participants. Advice on grammar and writing technique appreciated.
> 
> I was going to put this up last week but I saw the comment made by Åsa and, well, all of a sudden a chapter written in Loki’s POV seems like a must so I drafted one. It’s taking so long due to a number of reasons but mainly because it’s so difficult for me to write Loki. Currently, it’s still riddled with schizophrenic sentiments and octopod horses with abandonment issues; I will post the same as soon as I finish cleaning it up.

Loki was getting dressed, opting to do so manually instead of magically. This wasn’t the first time. It has been puzzling Tony because, well, if one could just snap a finger and be done with it, then why would anyone bother slipping on pants, letting one’s palms languidly pull up the garment to conceal flawless, petal-smooth skin - not to mention the nicest ass this side of evil - or pulling on shirts and shaking free locks of silken hair that’s darker than the blackest black, slim fingers poised to secure the fastenings at the base of one’s neck, slowly robbing Tony of the glorious view-

Oh.

Their third night together, he was tugging and ripping away Loki’s clothes as soon as the Trickster materialised on the balcony of one of Tony’s many private residences, not caring if anyone could spot them. “Stark…” Loki had breathed heatedly into his ear before nibbling the lobe insistently. And Tony had, caught in a tsunami of frenzied need, rasped into one sculpted shoulder, how his favourite part of their encounters was undressing Loki.

Bastard, Tony huffed. Later when he recalls this in lurid, 3D detail, he’d be horrified (but not surprised) to realise that he had thought it with nothing but fondness.

“My given name is Tony, by the way.”

“Too many syllables. You don’t honestly expect me to bother pronouncing the name with two instead of the name with one.” 

‘Not when I’m out of my mind with lust’ you mean? Or ‘not when doing so might mean we’re no longer “fucking” or “having sex” but, ugh, “making love”? Tony silently added, regardless whether it really was what Loki would’ve said, regardless whether it was a dangerous thought for he, Tony, to have. Nevertheless, he reminded himself to check with Thor whether mind-reading was an actual skill of his baby brother’s. This wasn’t the first time Loki seemed to know exactly where the tracks for his train of thought were directed. Tony enjoyed catching people off-guard by saying something outrageous, out-of-the-blue… He hadn’t had much success with Loki. It was another aspect of this (relationship? affiliation? tryst?) which he’d need to tweak, to recalibrate.

Fortunately for them both - well, more likely just for Tony - he works best when faced with insurmountable odds.

“I don’t know why you bother insisting. You know it’s only a temporary thing.” To Tony’s delight, he was rewarded with a sideways glance, a raised eyebrow and a challenging smirk. “Someday, you’ll be calling me Tony. I’m gonna get you to do it.”

“You can try.”

“I can, can I.” Tony beamed inwardly; someone not gifted with his level of intelligence would mistake this as Loki being his usual derisive self, but, even without - or maybe especially after - spending this many nights together, Tony has come to know better.

Loki just gave him permission.

That got him into a jovial mood. So cheerful in fact, Tony rolled himself out of bed - his steps as light as if he was walking on sunshine or some other girly sentiment - and came to stand beside Loki. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Loki stopped halfway through shrugging on his overcoat and turned his head towards the no-longer-sprawled-in-bed Tony. “Well, two things actually. First, is there nothing I can do to convince you to stay for coffee?”

Loki simply reached for his boots. He could’ve rolled his eyes, Tony wasn’t sure.

When it comes to Loki, Tony knew he could never be truly sure.

“I guess that’s a ‘no’, then. Okay, second question. Why **did** you blow up Fox’s HQ?” Loki had stood back up after securing his footwear. (By the way, he has the **cutest** toes and, get this, ticklish insteps. Tony had paid dearly for discovering that a month ago - the scratches on his back and chest didn’t heal for days and showering was a bitch. It was so worth it.) He was helping Loki straighten his overcoat and not, you know, running his palm over that marvelous behind. “What was the purpose of that? No one could figure it out. It didn’t tie up to any of your other evil plans.”

“They cancelled Firefly; by the Nine, they must pay.”

And just like that, Loki was gone in a puff of green mist and enigmatic smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disappointing, I know. It’s short. And porn-less. I apologise for inflicting this upon your person. This scene was originally part of Chapter 1; I removed it because, after much rereading, I felt it was cleaner to leave it off where I did. However, I had written this almost two-page scene and I didn’t want to abandon it, but I couldn’t post it as a standalone either.
> 
> Thank you very much for all the kudos and kind words. There are thousands of stories in this fandom; I highly appreciate it, you taking the time to read and comment on mine.

**Author's Note:**

> Because “the opposite of love” is not necessarily “hate”.


End file.
